


Heir of the Ashen Empire

by Sarcasket



Series: Reign of the Ashen Emperor [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Enlightened Byleth, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating will change, Warnings Will Change, emperor AU, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasket/pseuds/Sarcasket
Summary: The mysteries and controversies surrounding the heir to the Adrestian throne are countless—Why did he suddenly appear one day, seemingly out of thin air? Why did the archbishop favor him so? And how could a mere child like him, whose spark of life has barely been ignited, be so cold and emotionless?Byleth himself would love to know the answers to those questions. A calculating axe-wielder and an ethereal young girl will prove unlikely assets to discovering the truth.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Hubert von Vestra, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: Reign of the Ashen Emperor [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615930
Comments: 21
Kudos: 37





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> The core series regarding Byleth's life as the heir apparent of the Adrestian Empire.
> 
> The first chapter is a small introduction.

Byleth sits in his office—a personal study where he devotes his time to improving as the future leader of the largest country on the continent. He is seated at an elegant yet rather modest desk, a custom piece which was paid handsomely for—made from fine wood to ensure sturdiness but also not decorative as to invoke luxury. Byleth had only practical needs for his desk. He would sit there on a daily basis—not a single day can be skipped, no matter the physical or mental strain he could be undergoing. He has responsibilities and expectations to live up to, thus he must continue to work hard, for the sake of his people’s future.

Today, he has practiced his singing in the crisp air of dawn, he has danced with his blade against the castle knights under the bright light of the noon’s sun, he has studied history in the gardens whilst drinking tea and eyeing the plants for those which have been used for the brew, and now he is studying politics in his office, the sunlight growing progressively more mild as if to remind him to play the Sun its daily lullaby by practicing on the violin.

A firm knock on the door gives away the identity of his visitor—the strength and rhythm exact as math.

“Come in.”

The prince calls without as much as looking up from the neatly organized notes and books.

Hubert opens the door in his usual manner—where he would push hastily at first before mellowing down as he realises the act is quite immature and frankly unbecoming of exposing his liege to. He takes exactly two steps in before bowing his head significantly lower than necessary, not that Byleth could see.

“Lord Byleth.”

The budding dark mage addresses his liege, sure to maintain perfect posture as he does so.

Byleth detects the seriousness from Hubert’s tone of voice and so he wipes his quill on the edge of the ink bottle before neatly setting it down on a designated stand. He folds in hands on top of the table and finally locks gazes with his most loyal servant.

“Hubert.”

He acknowledges him, urging him to continue.

The heir of Vestra reaches into the chest pocket of his suit, procuring a letter of fine parchment, sealed with the utmost radiance of the archbishop’s brand.

_To our dearly beloved heir of Adrestia, the imperial prince Byleth,_

_I write to you as to congratulate you to your seventeenth birthday._ _May you continue to mature at a steady pace, may good health continue to find you_ _and may the tomorrows bring about the glory of your righteous deeds_ _—I am certain the Goddess will see to the fruition of my prayers._ _To commemorate this special occasion, I would like to propose_ _for Your Highness to enroll at the Officer’s Academy at the Garreg Mach Monastery._ _That is a long-term invitation and our doors are open to you whenever_ _you may wish to go through them. Now would simply be the time when_ _I think this offer ought to begin its validity. I merely ask that you think well on it._

_It would be fair to mention that this year we are also expecting the enrollment of Lord Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, the prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, as well as Lord Claude von Riegan, grandson of duke Riegan, leader of the Leicester Alliance. The Black Eagle House would be ready to welcome you as its leader should you choose to accept._

_I dearly anticipate our nearest encounter._

_Sincerely,_   
_Archbishop Rhea of the Church of Seiros_

Byleth’s bright, cold eyes continue to pierce through Hubert as he finishes reading the letter. A silent inquiry on the servant’s opinion regarding the matter. The dark-haired youth casts his gaze to the side, seemingly pondering.

It was a deeply attractive offer—Officer’s Academy was the greatest school in all of Fódlan. Not to mention the fellow heirs would be there as well.

Byleth closes his eyes as he recalls the endearing, girlish face of the young prince Dimitri. The very first memories he could recall were of Faerghus, where he was sent as a show of support from King Lambert by ensuring his safety whilst his father attempted to settle some disturbing political matters back in Adrestia. Sure enough, the two princes established a close bond, if only for the small while they spent together. Byleth would always treasure those memories, for they are the only calm and carefree place within his heart.

The imperial prince has heard of the duke’s grandson before and the rumors were about as flattering as his own. Perhaps they could form companionship based on such similarities.

Byleth is quite certain that in this moment, he should be experiencing something—like soft bubbling in his chest and a light buzz in his head. Alas, he feels nothing, as always. That alone invokes the one emotion he seemed to recognize well in his heart—sadness. Perhaps even loneliness, to a degree. This all sounded so exciting and great, yet his chest is static and his mind monotone.

The Adrestian heir opens his eyes to find himself locking gazes with Hubert, who gives him an awkward, yet genuine smile to show support. Even with Byleth’s positively blank face, his retainer always seemed to know what he was thinking. It was quite the terrifying ability, yet it brought a certain sense of comfort as well. It made Byleth feel like a normal human, just another teenaged person being wracked with all kinds of incomprehensible emotions. Perhaps he even was, somewhere deep within—but the bubbles would never break the surface.

“Shall I prepare a reply?”

Hubert offers, already seeing his liege had made up his mind.

Byleth softly shakes his head, simply extending a hand. The servant understands the implication of the motion instantly and moves to a familiar drawer to retrieve a piece of parchment. He hands it to Byleth, who gently pushes away the notes and the books littering his desk and immediately readies himself to write. As Byleth’s hand dances with the quill above the paper in a practiced, elegant motions, Hubert takes to cleaning up his master’s desk, placing the books back to their designated shelves and neatly organizing the prince’s notes.

Hubert finishes clean-up just in time for Byleth to set aside the letter, arranging it to the side of his desk to leave the ink to dry. The prince pushes back against the desk and stands up, offering Hubert the best warm, reassuring gaze he could muster.

“Let us first get to the preparations—we must consult father.”


	2. A Prince and His Loyal Servant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth has a lot on his mind and Hubert knows just how to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Two male teenagers cuddling

Byleth lays in his bed, mulling over the conversation he’s had with his father the other day. The emperor was beyond enthusiastic at the prospect of Byleth attending the Officer’s Academy. He said it was a great opportunity for Byleth to make friends as well as strengthen connections with the rest of Fódlan. He’s never seen his father with such bright eyes, yet he could not help but feel guilty leaving him alone when he was ill. He was so sickly pale… Byleth often worried just how much time he really had left.

_“Do not worry for me, dear son. I am the past of Adrestia, you are her future. Instead of spending your time with a decaying old man like me, you ought to prepare yourself to be a ruler. That is truly what I wish for, from the bottom of my heart.”_

Strictly logically speaking, his father was correct. And yet, he could not help the unsettling pressure in his gut—he felt sick. He wished to spend more time with his family. In the normal ways he’d seen the Enbarr children do.

Byleth shakes his head, as if trying to manually disperse the thought.

_No! That would be absolutely selfish and self-indulgent._

Then again, even imperial princes can be selfish.

_Clank_

…Case in point.

“My Lord.”

Hubert walks in from Byleth’s balcony, bowing to his liege.

“Hubert. You do realize you could just Warp _directly_ inside my chambers, yes?”

“Why yes, but you would not be so cruel as to rob me of a dramatic entrance, would you, milord?”

Byleth rolls his eyes at that, causing Hubert to chuckle.

“I see you are not sleeping. _As always_.” Hubert almost hisses the second part.

Byleth shrugs at that.

“I do not—“

“Feel tired, even if you do not sleep? Yes, perhaps, but the toll it takes on your body is inevitable. You are not above your human nature, milord. I would hate to see you crumble to dust so early.”

“You are one to talk. You are awake as well. And at least I am in bed. I bet you were working until just now, were you not?”

The servant can only sigh in defeat, causing the prince to give him an unusually sharp glare. He hardly ever showed any kind of hostility—especially to his dear retainer—but the hypocrisy as well as the implications of what this was doing to Hubert’s health made him snap.

“You say I am not above my human nature, but what is human nature that involves _this_?” Byleth opened the first two buttons of his night shirt, exposing his left breast. Hubert grimaced at that, looking away in shame.

“Within my chest lays an unbeating heart. _How is that for a human?_ I am a monster. I must be.”

With that, the mint-haired prince throws himself under his covers, refusing to look at Hubert after his outburst, but also due to the shame of the implications of his true nature—whatever it could be.

“My lord…” The dark mage breathes out, cautiously approaching his master’s bed.

He softly unveils Byleth from under the covers—empty mint eyes gazing up at him in glacial confusion. Hubert smiles and ushers Byleth to the side, sliding into the bed next to him and covering them both with the blankets. He boldly pulls the prince in, causing Byleth to lay down his head on Hubert’s chest.

Byleth closes his eyes, breathing out a relaxed sigh.

_Ba-dump._

_Ba-dump._

_Ba-dump._

“I-It’s a little faster than usual, my apologies.”

Byleth just hums in response, burying his face deeper into Hubert’s chest.

_No apology needed._

“If I could, I would rip out my heart for you to wear.”

“But you would not be of much use to me then, hmm?”

“Yes~”

Hubert begins gently threading his long fingers through his master's hair.

It was unacceptable, utterly preposterous, deeply inappropriate and positively sinful. A servant should not cross boundaries like this, to lay together with his master in bed, to touch him so carelessly and intimately.

Hubert can feel Byleth’s breathing steady, chest heaving up and down in a lazy rhythm.

But he would do anything to make ensure his master’s comfort.

Ever since they were young, Hubert recalled how each doctor who would come to check up on the little imperial prince would go missing afterwards, very likely exterminated by the emperor’s spy forces. He wondered what they could have seen so horrible that they had to be weeded out like so. What kind of secret was his liege hiding? What was the emperor trying to cover up? The prince confided in him himself one day, when he pressed his palm to the servant’s chest and listened intently. Hubert swore he would never speak a word of the prince’s condition—not that he could, he would likely be labeled insane, or worse, Archbishop Rhea would come after him herself, enraged he would try to stain her darling prince’s reputation like this.

When Byleth told him, that was the closest he saw the prince to crying—his eyes glazed over, yet no tears spilled. He was worried that Hubert would find it scary, that he would run away and never talk to him again. Previous associates of the prince were like that, but like the doctors, they were exterminated. Byleth treasured Hubert too much to bear the heir of Vestra leaving him like that, too much to bear seeing him be killed off for his knowledge and his offense to the heir of the imperial throne.

Hubert could never describe the emotion he felt that day in one word. He was swept away by the display of trust from his liege, to be left to guard such a precious, personal secret. To be able to share this with Byleth and to comfort him about it. It was the greatest honor he’d ever received.

Byleth was positively terrifying, with great strength he’d use to best castle knights from a young age, with a cold nature and a sharp glare that would send grown up nobility into the greatest depths of fear—and his heart did not beat, solidifying his monstrous nature and leaving its mark where it could not be denied.

Neither the prince nor his retainer knew what he really was. Only that it was scary. But even so, they would get through it all, together. Hubert would never be afraid of his liege and Byleth would never do anything to upset Hubert. That was their silent oath to one another.

________________________________________________________________________________

“Byleth! Bylethhhh!!! Do you mean to tell me you are still taken in the sweet embrace of slumber?! And you are the heir to the Adrestian throne?! How un-noble-like of you!! Come on!! I know you’re in there!! Get up and come spar with me, if you dare!!”

Hubert stares into the decorative ceiling of his liege’s bedroom, suddenly feeling very tired. The screaming coming from outside the chamber is shrill and very, very familiar.

Byleth opens his eyes, staring up at Hubert—even in the blank stare Hubert can clearly detect the annoyance.

_“Ferdinand.”_

They both breathe out at once, sounding exasperated.

The heir of Aegir was a quite endearing fellow, good friends with the imperial prince since young age. But he was immensely competitive, quite proud and especially—

**“Byleth!!!”**

_Loud._

_“That’s ‘Prince Byleth’ to you, you impatient bratty little—“_

Hubert grumbles under his breath, rising from the bed as he gently pushes his liege off of him.

“I will see you for your noon studies. Be strong.”

Hubert hums, placing quick kiss on Byleth’s cheek before Warping away.

Byleth sighs, instinctively wiping away at the spot, even if he did not hate the contact—quite the contrary, really. Perhaps he subconsciously felt like if he did not wipe it off, someone would take notice.

Regardless…

“Byleth, I am going to lie down in front of your bedroom and die. That is how long you are taking. I can _feel_ a beard growing. The old times are starting to sound really good.”

It was time to get up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two chapters. This is already more systematic than anything I've written in the past five years. Gods, I am out of shape.


	3. Of Memories and Loud Nobles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Due to his father's elation regarding Byleth's decision to attend the Officer's Academy, he is ordered to take a day off. A mysterious friend encourages him to have fun, whilst Ferdinand acts like a background noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is a pacing
> 
> Also why is the spacing so wide. How do I operate this website.

“Ferdinand, _please_ …”

Byleth sighs, glancing over at the proud noble sauntering behind him.

Byleth had been ordered by his father to take a day off. A day off! Byleth did not recall another example of such an occurrence. He hated to admit it but he was beyond excited—there were so many things he wanted to do.

“Trust me, By! Just partake in a bit of impulsiveness. At this rate, you will waste away your day off by trying to decide what to do.”

Ferdinand says, puffing out his chest.

Byleth had to admit, he had a point. To a degree.

_Oh, do not even think of it!_

A high-pitched, heavily accented voice screeches at him from his mind.

Byleth’s lips twitch up a little, his equivalent of a sheepish smile, as he twirls a strand of hair around his finger.

_Sigh… I mean… If it comes down to it, I will, of course, happily assist you, however… You ought to understand that such careless use of my power will only take a toll on you! Gahh, who would I partake in conversation with, were you to perish?! I would be so desperately lonely! You cannot do that to me._

Byleth continues twirling his hair, as if the gesture will comfort the little girl in his mind.

_“Well, would you at least help me decide? You are probably better at this than me…”_

The prince whispers, seeing as he had never learned to talk to the mysterious spirit-like being in any other way.

_Why, of cour—Hey! Do you mean to suggest that I am impulsive?! You ungrateful brat! Think of all the times I had saved you! The least you could do is show a little respect!_

_“M-My apologies, I did not mean it like that…”_

Byleth’s voice is genuinely meek, his little hair-twirling quirk turning shameful as he feels bad for insulting his dear friend.

It was… An odd predicament to say the least. Ever since he was small, Byleth would see a young-looking girl in his dreams, perched on a throne of cold stone. She spoke eloquently and with great maturity, yet her appearance and occasional emotional outbursts were still positively childish.

Sothis, was her name. Same as the Goddess of Fódlan, one that Archbishop Rhea would talk to him about quite fervently. She always looked at him with expectation in her eyes as she spoke of the Goddess—like she, somehow, knew about the girl that seemed to dwell within Byleth’s mind. But it had to be a coincidence of some sort. The depictions of the Goddess looked nothing like the Sothis that sat on the stone throne within Byleth’s subconscious. As much as she hated to admit it.

On many an occasion, Byleth would contemplate whether he was simply insane. Maybe there was no Sothis, no divine time-traveling ability. And yet, he knew, without doubt, that his heart did not beat. The ethereal girl had suggested it before—that perhaps his condition had something to do with his lack of heartbeat. And then there was that…

________________________________________________________________________________

_“Byleth, what is all this?”_

_The young noble with distinctly ginger hair asks, digging through a closet in a seemingly forgotten part of the Enbarr palace._

_He takes out a gorgeous red dress adorned with black feathers, admiring it._

_“Hmm… I think these used to belong to my siblings.”_

_“Siblings? I had no idea you had siblings!”_

_“Emphasis on had. From what I heard, they were all taken out, one by one. Assassinations. I do not remember a single one of them.”_

_Ferdinand gasps at that, childish excitement pushing back any pity he could feel for the prince._

_“Wow! But you’re here. Does that mean there have been no attempts at your life?”_

_“…There have.”_

_And so many of them. They were rather frequent in the beginning and eventually started dwindling down till there were no more. The rumors have probably spread, about the Immortal Prince of the Imperium._

_The first time it happened, he was taken by surprise. But then, as his blood spilled onto the floor, time seemed to stop—and then reel back. He stood where he was moments before being attacked and he pulled a dagger from his belt, immediately throwing it where the assassin would appear. The dagger pierced their forehead and they fell limp to the ground, dead._

_From that day on, Sothis’ presence in his life had been much clearer. She would speak to him in dreams at first, then even during waking moments. She would assist him with her otherworldly power and keep him safe from harm. She became a close friend of his, perhaps even closer than Hubert. She could see his thoughts if she wanted to, but she had mercy on the poor youth and gave him as much privacy as she could._

_“Really? How did you survive?! Tell me, tell me!~”_

_“Uhm. Lucky coincidences… The assassins were really not that skilled and the guards have learned their lesson from previous experience.”_

_“I see. What’s it like, almost being assassinated?”_

_Like all the hate of the world is suddenly directed at you. Like it’s telling you that you do not belong, like you do not deserve to live. It is too heavy—the implication of someone going out of their way to eliminate you specifically._

_“It is… Quite scary.”_

_“You say that, but you do not seem scared! That’s the imperial prince for you! So brave.”_

_‘Yes. Thanks to you, Sothis. I can afford to be brave. I believe you, I believe you will come to my aid. That is why when slumber finally overtakes me, it is always a peaceful one.’_

________________________________________________________________________________

All that was too real for Byleth to think up. No matter how much he would try to reason that through diligent religious study he has come to possess a delusion of the Goddess being his imaginary friend, there were too many things that heavily implied otherwise.

“ _Helloooo?_ Earth to Byleth? Pay attention to me please, I am too handsome to be so rudely ignored.”

Byleth snaps out of his little trance to see Ferdinand waving his hand in front the prince’s face.

“O-Oh, sorry…”

Byleth ceases with the hair-twirling, gaze focusing in on Ferdinand’s face to grant him the attention he clearly yearns for so much.

“Do not worry about it, friend!” Ferdinand laughs, patting Byleth on the shoulder, “You like to space out whenever you can, I am quite accustomed to it by now.”

Byleth shakes his head as if to indicate that even so, that does not make his actions okay. But the heir of Aegir just drags him along, determined to make use of the prince’s sudden boost of free time.

“Say, why not have some tea together? I have brought the most exquisite tea leaves! I personally love them so I want to see what you will think. You do enjoy tea as well, after all.”

Byleth gives the slightest of smiles. Indeed, he enjoys tea. It is a constant companion to him as he studies, the scent so calming and the taste so pleasant and warm. Really, he hardly had a preference. He could drink anything from the sweetest fruit teas to the bitter green ones and enjoy them all to the fullest. Of course, the right brewing technique was essential, but really, Byleth had mastered that to the point that even the foremost servants of Enbarr palace were jealous of him.

“Yes, that does sound quite lovely—“

“My lord.”

Byleth and Ferdinand turn to the sound of the voice—the coldness and depth all too familiar.

Hubert bows his head to his liege, casting a look of distaste towards the young Aegir from his half-lidded eyes—the angle making the gesture unnoticeable.

“Hubert.”

Byleth nods in greeting at the servant.

The dark mage straightens up, clearing his throat to begin his report.

“The messenger with your reply to the Archbishop has been deployed. The knights have been informed of your decision as to prepare for a journey as soon as the final answer arrives. Also, I would like to congratulate you on your day off. His Majesty must be delighted to hear of your enrollment at Garreg Mach. Are there any preparations to be made in the light of the activities you would like to partake in today?”

Byleth cannot even begin to muse on that before Ferdinand butts in.

“Me and Byleth are heading to the gardens to have some tea!”

The red noble proudly announces.

Hubert raises a non-existent eyebrow at that and blinks as if to say ‘Whatever have I done to imply I care?’. Ferdinand doesn’t seem to take notice as he is too caught up in his boasting. Byleth locks gazes with Hubert, furrowing his brows in awkwardness-laced empathy.

“I do have a list of things you mentioned having an interest in.”

Hubert continues whilst completely ignoring Ferdinand, procuring a red-bound notebook from his coat.

He briefly flips through it, clearly having it mapped out in his head without as much as a bookmark.

“Here.” He presses his pointer finger to the page as he reads through the list, “Fishing, cooking, dancing, shopping… There is also a mention of interest in cats and dogs, but I am unsure if a permission for leisure involves self-indulgent acquirement of pets. Shall I go ask?”

Byleth is certain if his emotions were a little more potent, he would be blushing now.

“N-No need… It is not as if it matters, now that I will be heading to the Monastery.”

The mint-haired prince casts his gaze down, looking rather disappointed.

The heir of Vestra and heir of Aegir exchange looks, both feeling sorry for their prince. This seemed like something he has wanted quite a lot. Both of them had spotted Byleth on various occasions, petting cats that would stray into the palace grounds, as well as dogs in the streets of Enbarr. The very first time Hubert and Ferdinand had seen the imperial heir smile was when they accompanied him to the city and he bought fish at the market and carefully fed a group of cats. It was an odd sight, the imperial prince on his knees, tearing apart a smelly fish with his bare hands and offering it to wild animals. It became a rather popular topic around Enbarr then and people seemed to view Byleth as a human, even if for a brief period of time.

_Hey now, let us wipe that sad look off your face! Today is your day off, so have some fun. When you become emperor, you will be able to have as many cats and dogs as you want! It’s not as if someone can order you to get rid of them then. Ha! Overruled!_

Sothis laughs gleefully in his mind and the sound puts Byleth at ease.

He straightens up and looks to the side, his habit kicking in as he twirls a strand of his hair.

“Won’t you join us for tea, Hubert? If you are not busy, maybe we could all go fishing together afterwards. If you are okay with it, of course…”

Hubert shakes his head, amused.

“I would love to, milord. I will gladly make the time for you, just say the word. I will be having coffee though, I will have you know.”

The liege and his servant turn to Ferdinand expectantly.

“Fishing, huh? Why, as a noble, I possess talents in all kinds of fields! A bit of plebeian activity is nothing at all! Or my name is not Ferdinand von Aegir!”

Ferdinand von Aegir laughs pompously.

Byleth and Hubert simply look at each other, awkward and unimpressed respectively.

“I-I shall brew you some good coffee, okay?”

“Thank you, my liege. It will be an honor observing and tasting the results of your outstanding brewing abilities.”

With Ferdinand around, this day might just prove long enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like a Naruto animator, making all this filler... I am not doing this on purpose, I swear.


	4. Like Cats and Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth gets to do what Byleth loves the most. Hubert pretends to not be jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s see how much softness I can fit into this fic before shit finally hits the fan.

“Can you believe I caught the legendary fish of the Enbarr Palace lake?!”

”That’s our Ferdie for you.”

”Hahahaha! You are _so_ right, my friend. Ah, but I was so disappointed at first. I seemed to have no luck at all with the fishing and honestly, the legendary fish of Enbarr Palace lake looks... Kind of ordinary. But it is the feat that counts and I, _Ferdinand von Aegir,_ am an achiever of the feats!”

Hubert casts a tired look in Byleth’s direction and the prince furrows his eyebrows in response—as if to say _I’m sorry, but I had to_.

During the trio’s little fishing trip, Ferdinand’s loudness proved to be an adversary to the art and he caught only one measly carp. And of course, seeing his friend so down from his failure, the heir apparent made up a grand story of a legendary fish which dwells in the lake of Enbarr Palace and declared the common carp to be the mythical beast itself.

_So now Ferdinand won’t shut up about it._

”It did not even put up much of a fight! I guess the bait cast by a noble of my calibre was simply too irresistible even for a legendary beast of such magnitude—“

A gloved hand covers the loud noble’s mouth, cutting off his speech. Ferdinand casts a bitter look at Hubert, but he simply hisses at him, before motioning forward with a nod. Ferdinand and Byleth both focus on what it is that the vassal had spotted.

_Oho! ‘Tis cats. A whole clowder of them! How adorable._

Byleth barely registers Sothis’ voice, completely mesmerised by the wonderful fluffy beasts before him. Before he can stop himself, he has taken a few careful steps forward. Hubert attempts to stop him, but realises letting go of Ferdinand would make a bigger fuss, so he secures his hold on the red noble and watches the scene unfold.

Instead of scattering, the cats meow excitedly as Byleth approaches.

”Hey there...” Byleth coos gently at them, crouching down to be closer to the cute new friends.

A ginger tabby with half an ear rubs against the prince’s kneepads, slobbering over the metal. Byleth lets out a small grumbling noise, his equivalent of a chuckle as he responds by scratching behind the tomcat’s good ear. A white cat with heterochromia mewls loudly, demanding ear scratches as well. Even a black cat with distrustful eyes approaches the prince, patiently waiting for its turn.

Hubert’s hand subconsciously falls from Ferdinand’s mouth as the two behold the prince in awe. While Byleth’s charisma always had a questionable effect on people, he had always been an animal magnet. Whenever they would venture into the wilderness, Hubert half-expected the birds, squirrels and fawns to come out to greet the prince and for the whole forest to break out into a fairytale musical number.

_“Prince Byleth’s singing voice is wonderful, after all.”_

The dark mage would muse, a dark smirk on his lips, though his mind had wondered into daydreams of his liege’s sweet voice.

Finally, Ferdinand and Hubert snap out of their little trance. They exchange looks and nod at one another, quietly collecting the buckets of fish they—mostly Byleth—had caught. They leave the prince with his new cuddly companions, smiling fondly as they scurry away.

* * *

Byleth returns to the palace as sunset begins to play its soft colors upon the sky. Hubert awaits him at the gate, bowing as his liege approaches. When he straightens up, he takes notice of the pitch black cat perched comfortably in the prince’s arms. He instinctively glowers at it and he swears the foul fleabag glares right back. Two pairs of lime green eyes meet in a silent battle.

”Milord. Forgive my tone but... _What is this?_ ”

Byleth looks to the side, which Hubert recognises as the “guilt” emotion movement.

”He is... Very persuasive.” Byleth offers weakly.

The cat hisses at Hubert when he raises an eyebrow in response. The servant sighs, crossing his arms.

”What do you plan on doing with him? I thought you would not take in pets before your coronation?” Hubert’s tone sounds almost like a challenge.

Byleth simply shakes his head.

”I already asked Lord Hrym to take care of him.”

”Ah.”

Lord Hrym is one of the knights at the castle. _A suspicious fellow_ , Hubert had always thought hypocritically. A towering presence clad in a white mask, he seemingly appeared out of thin air. Hubert was certain that the Hrym territory had no heir to take over, yet this man claimed it as his own, along with the name. And to make matters worse, he seemed to gravitate towards His Highness. _Like one of those strays_ , Hubert thought bitterly.

”Milord.”

_Speak of the devil._

The knight clad in a blood-red cape easily towers even over Hubert himself. He makes his way over to the prince, approaching too close for the vassal’s liking. Byleth has to look up to make eye contact with the man, offering him a soft gaze. The cat, who had a feral disposition towards Hubert, seemingly has no problem climbing from the prince’s embrace into the arms of the tall blond. It makes itself comfortable there, purring loudly as if to purposefully agitate the dark mage.

”I know you love cats, so I trust you will take good care of him.” Byleth hums, appraising the new pair.

Jeritza simply nods and grunts in response.

”What shall... I call him?” The Death Knight ponders aloud.

”Hmm...” Byleth makes a noise as if he is thinking, but Hubert can tell he has known the answer before the knight had even asked, “How about... _Hubert_?”

Hubert almost chokes on his own spit.

Jeritza’s gaze shifts towards the servant. Hubert honestly has no idea if the knight is aware of his name or if he’s simply staring because of the pathetic noise he just made.

”Ok.” Jeritza responds simply.

Hubert can see the smile in Byleth’s eyes, the smugness rolling off the prince in subtle waves.

”Uhhh...” Jeritza lets out another one of his regularly eloquent noises before bowing to the prince and awkwardly backing away, then turns around completely and strides away.

He looks very satisfied with himself, exchanging a look with the cat. Byleth can tell it’s fondness sparkling between the two, Hubert simply considers it disgusting. The raven-haired man shakes his head, as if to manually disperse any more nagging thoughts of the menacing tower of awkwardness that is Jeritza von Hrym. He steps away from the gate and opens the door for his liege, bowing as he ushers the prince inside.

”Has Ferdinand left already?” Byleth inquires as the two walk the halls of Enbarr Palace.

”Yes. Duke Aegir arrived earlier and dragged our dear friend off, kicking and screaming.” Hubert replies, sounding amused as he recalls the image of the distraught noble.

Byleth furrows his eyebrows in concern—the emotion not reaching deep enough to invoke a pitiful smile as well.

”I will have you know, I have submitted my application for Garreg Mach Monastery’s Officers Academy as well.” Hubert reports.

Byleth casts an intense look in his vassal’s direction, urging him to elaborate.

”Duke Aegir said he will also see to Ferdinand’s enrollment. I would hate to leave you alone, but I would hate to leave you alone with—“ Hubert immitates the noble’s voice, “ _Ferdinand von Aegir_ even more.” He rolls his eyes to punctuate his statement, frowning at the idea.

Byleth hums and Hubert identifies the amusement in his tone—the prince’s equivalent of a laugh. It makes the servant fluster, even if his fondness for his liege is no secret for either of them.

The two of them walk to Byleth’s chambers.

* * *

Sothis sits upon her throne, watching her mint-haired prince and his loyal servant. She cannot help the fond smile stretching across her lips. She leans her cheek in the palm of her hand, humming to herself in satisfaction.

_New experiences await you, my dear prince. How delightful, should you find yourself surrounded by people of your own age. Pursue relationships and enrich your heart. Yes. Should you firmly grasp happiness, I, too, shall be the happiest of all!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, more filler. Kill me.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly just needed to get this idea out of my system. All about the AU will be explained eventually. Warning: I am lazy and forgetful, so if you want this series to continue, I recommend pestering me about it. Motivation has to be manually supplied to me, unfortunately.


End file.
